


The 100: A Christmas AU

by JennTheMastermind



Category: The 100
Genre: Christmas, F/M, The 100 Christmas, This is an old fic so that's why I'm posting Christmas in March?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:12:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennTheMastermind/pseuds/JennTheMastermind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas and the group has survived without further conflict with the Grounders and without contact with the Ark. Bellamy decides to be a scrooge, but Clarke convinces him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 100: A Christmas AU

The first thing Bellamy heard as he and the hunting party neared the walls of the camp was a shriek from inside. His pulse froze, sending an apprehensive chill across his shoulders and down his spine; it constrictively wrapped across his chest.

“Octavia,” he whispered. Bellamy dropped his makeshift game bag and ran towards the fence, readying his gun and yelling, “Open the gate, now!”

It slid open before him and he ran to the center of the camp, hearing another shrill cry. Horrible scenarios were flashing across his mind and Octavia was the focus of all of them. There hadn’t been any incidents with the Grounders for weeks, but that didn’t mean a thing. On earth, nothing was for certain except the promise of danger.

Bellamy was imagining Grounders placed around the camp, weapons in hand and threatening the Hundred into compliance as Octavia was tortured, when he stopped short. He was breathing hard, too caught up in his head to comprehend what he was seeing.

There were no Grounders, but there was Octavia: in the air, crying with laughter as she tried to keep her balance. Underneath her were Finn, Monty, and Raven. The three were lifting Octavia up by her feet, steadying her so she could reach the top of a tall…pine tree?

He let his gun fall to his side, exhaling a heavy breath as he starred in disbelief.

“What the hell…” he murmured.

“Hold me still!” Octavia shouted.

“That would be a lot easier if you would stop your damn wiggling,” Raven mumbled.

Monty and Finn grimaced in agreement, red-faced and fighting to keep Octavia upright.

Bellamy stood in place as he watched his sister lean toward the tree, a metal star in hand that even from this distance he could tell was Finn’s work. Octavia’s reach was barely long enough to place the decoration at the top. The air he breathed suddenly seemed thin while watching her at such a dangerous height.

“Hey, Octavia! You’re looking good up there, babe!” A boy’s voice jeered from a corner of the camp followed by more hollering and snickering.

“Shut up,” Bellamy ordered in the direction of the harassment and it ceased immediately.

He moved forward as Raven, Finn, and Monty attempted to let Octavia down. He heard the gate close behind him and the sound of the hunting party hauling in their kill and laughing at the scene. Cheers mixed with giggling and good-natured laughter filled the camp as Octavia fell on top of her three supports, all of them landing in a mess on the ground.

“Oww,” Raven groaned yet still smiling as she pushed Monty off of her.

Bellamy shook his head, frustration spreading through him; it was like the itch from that poisonous plant he and a few others had fallen into in the woods the other day had found its way into his veins.

Movement around the camp began to work orderly again as he hauled Octavia to her feet.

“O, what are you doing?” He demanded. His grip on her arm did nothing to diminish her smile.

“Come on, Bell,” she laughed, “don’t be so serious all the time. It’s Christmas!”

“What?”

“Christmas!” Finn cheered as Raven helped him to his feet.

“Where did you get the tree?” Bellamy asked levelly.

“Finn found it about a twenty minute walk from camp,” Monty grinned.

“And you just thought it was okay to walk outside the wall, unprotected, while the Grounders are still out there, to get a tree?”

“Get over it, Bellamy,” Raven hit him in the arm. “Don’t be such a stooge.”

“Scrooge,” Monty corrected.

“Whatever,” Raven waved him off, somewhat breathless.

“Yeah, Bell,” Octavia shook his hand off. “We’re fine, anyway, and we all thought the camp could use something a bit happier than a military-grade lockdown for Christmas.”

Bellamy kept his expression stern and cheerless as he stared down at her, keeping focused on her pale blue eyes full of joy.

“It’s reckless, Octavia,” he said.

“I can take care of myself, Bell.”

“Yeah,” Raven cleared her throat. “That’s why you needed us to lift you up.”

“How’d you get to be so heavy anyway?” Monty joked.

“It’s all muscle, Monty,” Octavia lifted her arms to flex. “You want to have a go to figure it out yourself?”

“Octavia,” Bellamy called her attention back.

She gave her best look of defiance before reaching her arms around his neck to hug him. Bellamy gave her a half-hearted, one-arm embrace back, too frustrated with her for being thoughtless. He wanted her to be happy, but he wanted her to also understand her safety was more important. If he hugged her back completely, like he wanted to, she might think everything was alright; it wasn’t.

“Moonshine’s on!” Jasper shouted out behind him.

More cheers erupted as daily chores were finally abandoned with this last distraction. Bellamy closed his eyes, letting out a slow, aggravated breath.

“Merry Christmas, Bell,” Octavia said, kissing his cheek.

She left towards Jasper and joined the celebration that was apparently now unavoidable. Finn, Raven and Monty followed her.

Bellamy shook his head derisively at the star on the tree as if the distractions from necessary camp life and procedure were its fault. He turned around as someone called his name.

“Bellamy!” Jasper cheered, coming up to him with two cups in hand. “Join the fun!”

Jasper offered him one, lifting the other up and fogging up the goggles over his eyes as he drank. Bellamy took the cup with impatience.

“Where’s Clarke?” He asked curtly.

Jasper swallowed, “Drop ship; where she always is.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy drawled, moving towards the entrance. Chants of Monty’s and Jasper’s name began in praise for their gift to the camp.

The chants became quieter as he entered the drop ship. There were a few of the Hundred laid out on cots, some sleeping and others shifting uncomfortably and grimacing.

“Oh, thanks,” a voice said beside him when the cup of moonshine was taken from his hand.

Bellamy looked at Clarke, who was already focused again on her current patient. It was one of the younger boys in the camp, lying on his stomach with a nasty gash in his calf.

Clarke drank from the cup first, her blonde hair falling off her shoulders as she tilted her head back.

She sat by the boy’s legs and told him, “Stay as still as you can.”

She poured some of the moonshine on the wound and a sharp intake of breath sounded from the kid. Clarke held the cup out behind her, focused on the wound as she cleaned the excess moonshine with a rag. Bellamy took it back, sitting on an unoccupied cot and propping his gun against his leg.

“You’re going to feel some pulling but that’s okay,” Clarke said and the boy nodded painfully.

Bellamy watched her work, noticing the steady concentration on her face and the faint grey coloring under her blue eyes.

Eighteen stitches and as fresh a bandage as Clarke could supply later, the younger boy was on his feet and out of the drop ship, looking pale and as if he might be sick.

As Clarke was washing her hands, a fresh wave of cheers came from outside and a renewed vexation pulsed through Bellamy. It’s not as if the Grounders didn’t know where their camp was, but if the remaining Hundred kept being so loud they might draw unneeded attention.

“Clarke,” Bellamy spoke as levelly as he could, “do you have any idea what’s going on right now?”

“I was going to ask you that.” She looked at him, drying her hands and taking the moonshine from him again. “It seems like you don’t. Or you didn’t, anyway.”

“A Christmas celebration, Clarke?”

“Yes.”

“And you just let…that happen?” Bellamy gestured outside.

“Yes.”

“Do I need to remind you what happened on Unity Day, Princess?”

Clarke sighed and sat on the cot next to him, “Do I need to remind you that you were the one encouraging Unity Day? I thought it was a bad idea-”

“And you were right and now I’m saying this is a bad idea, Clarke-”

“The camp could use a bit of fun, Bellamy! Everyone’s been on edge with the Grounders being quiet and after losing connection with the Ark – with their families,” Clarke took a deep breath and said quietly, “they need some hope.”

Bellamy glanced at her when she stopped to find her watching him. Their eyes met and he couldn’t make himself look away. Her honest blue eyes were, at first urging him to let the celebration continue, now a softened gaze completely unconcerned with the issue at hand or anything else that wasn’t him.

Something tightened in Bellamy’s chest at seeing the openness in Clarke’s eyes. It wasn’t like what he’d felt before, when he’d heard Octavia shout and was afraid she was in danger. That was apprehension; this was anticipation of something he wasn’t aware he’d been wanting. Clarke’s breath caught and he could see in her expression she was feeling the same.

He’d be convinced it was the moonshine causing the profoundly strange warmth that caused his pulse to jump; only he hadn’t had any moonshine.

It almost seemed wrong what he was seeing in her exposed stare, like it was too personal for him to see. Bellamy was at the same time uncomfortable and honored; uncomfortable at seeing the look in Clarke’s eyes, as if he wasn’t supposed to be seeing, and honored that she was letting him.

Bellamy’s eyes flitted to her lips of what seemed their own volition and Clarke looked away, clearing her throat and drinking from the cup. He mentally shook away the trance-like feeling and glanced away, as well.

“The people in here could especially use some hope,” Clarke began nonchalantly, a hint of flippancy in her voice as she gestured to the make-shift hospital. “I mean, the ones that came into contact with the same poison, ivy-like plant you did. None of them are complaining about it nearly as much as you did-”

“We’re not going to talk about that, Clarke,” Bellamy stopped her.

They glanced at each other long enough for him to see the self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“What has you in such a good mood?” He asked.

“It’s Christmas,” Clarke said, as if there didn’t need to be another reason. “It’s a time for cheer and hope. I think we both know hope will do us more good tonight than those guns, right?”

Clarke took one last drink of the moonshine before handing him the cup and leaving the drop ship. Bellamy watched her go, turning the cup in his hands as he thought. His irritation had slipped away from him, leaving him with a clearer and calmer disposition.

Bellamy stood and strung the gun back over his shoulder, thinking on what Clarke said. He supposed she was right: a bit of celebration would do the camp good. Perhaps he was being a bit too commanding and restrictive. It didn’t make him question his actions; the Grounders were still a threat and they still needed to be on alert but maybe a party was due.

Bellamy reassured himself about the celebration by making sure security was covered and committing himself to stay away from the moonshine.

_-_-_-_

Bellamy sat on the ground, leaning back against a fallen tree trunk they had moved into the camp for seating around the nightly fires. There was one burning in front of him now, warming him against the cold winter air even though his breath still fogged. The metal cup filled with moonshine was freezing in his hand, but the chill kept him awake and alert.

In his other hand, he was absently spinning one of the many sticks they had used for skewers for dinner. Their Christmas “feast” (which consisted of one of those two headed deers and a few more berries than normal that they had taken from their winter reserves) was mostly over and the remaining of the Hundred were celebrating as groups with games or as couples in hidden places, out of sight.

Bellamy watched Jasper, Monty, and Raven playing moonshine pong with a spare nut the mechanic had found in the drop ship. Finn, Octavia, Miller, and several others were playing a game of dice, courtesy of one of the Hundred who carved the dice, around a larger fire.

Bellamy looked over at the pine tree and the crafted star on top of it, shaking his head again. He’d never imagined he’d ever see a real Christmas tree and was suddenly glad it was Octavia who had decorated it. She deserved to be the first person to put a star on a tree after humans not being around them for ninety seven years; just as much as she had deserved to be the first person on earth.

“What was it you said to me on Unity Day?” Clarke said, unannounced as she sat down beside him. “Why don’t you go get a drink? You look like you could use one.”

Bellamy gave a short laugh, “I have a drink, Princess.”

“Yet, you’re not drinking it. What was that other bit you said? Oh, right, ‘Have some fun while you still can. You deserve it.’”

“And I told you I’d have my fun when the Grounders come.”

“They’re not here yet.”

Clarke held out one of the reserve packs of berries to him, as if reinforcing her implied point. He took one, silently and smiling, and looked back at Octavia and the dice game as he ate it. Feeling Clarke’s blue eyes on him again, he took a drink of his moonshine just to stop her lecture.

He could feel her smiling as she followed the direction of his gaze.

“Are you still thinking Christmas on earth is a bad idea, Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

“Security’s covered and I don’t plan on sleeping until everyone else is done with their fun.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Clarke threw a half-hearted glare at him.

She had looked back over at the games after, but Bellamy caught himself staring at her again. The firelight played across her face, dancing with the shadows over her mouth that was charmed with a smile. Her blonde hair looked golden, parts of it pulled back from her face as if to crown her head like an actual princess.

Her blue eyes narrowed and her smile fell from grace into anger. Clarke abruptly stood, stepped over the log and left the fireside, leaving Bellamy to wonder what happened. When he glanced where she had been fixated, he understood.

Finn was looking in his direction, where Clarke had been, wearing the painfully dejected expression of unrequited love.

Bellamy shifted and caught Finn’s eyes. He gave his hardest expression and coldest stare to the boy as he stuck the skewer stick into the ground and stood. He followed in the direction Clarke had gone, leaving the loudest sounds of Christmas behind him.

Bellamy found Clarke standing just outside the camp’s walls, having gone through their concealed back exit. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was looking up at the stars in the night sky. He followed her gaze, realized it wasn’t the stars she was staring at but the Ark, and decided to forgo the lecture on being outside the wall alone. The air was cold against his skin now that he was away from the fire and he felt it begin to seep into his core.

Bellamy stayed quiet, holding out the cup of moonshine to her. There wasn’t much to do for gifts on earth people couldn’t just make for themselves, he realized. The gesture would have to be his gift to her.

Clarke took it but didn’t drink, “I wish Wells could have been around for this.”

Bellamy let his eyes fall from the sky to her, the moon illuminating her face with a cooler but no less entrancing light. He didn’t say anything, understanding that wasn’t why she was speaking. She didn’t need him to.

“He deserved to be around for this,” her voice cracked slightly. She took a deep breath, her shoulders lifting. “My dad should have been around for this – at least for one more Christmas on the Ark.”

Bellamy’s heart wrenched against his better thought. The moonlight reflected unshed tears in her eyes.

“I keep thinking about my mom – what she did; what Wells did. It was Finn that helped me figure it out. I thought things would be okay with him, but he’s just another liar; like my mom.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy finally said.

“I know,” she looked down, brushing away the pooled water in her eyes, “what happened to all that hope I was talking about, right?”

Clarke took a modest drink of moonshine and handed him the cup. He took it absently, not looking anywhere except at her.

“Thanks,” she said.

Bellamy stood still as she walked past him again, still staring where she was when he heard her footsteps pause and begin to return.

Clarke stopped in front of him, meeting his eyes with the same openness she had earlier that day. He wasn’t sure how much time passed while his chest tightened and spread the same anticipation and warmth through him, his pulse jumping. The feeling was counteracting the cold air, but not enough.

She stood on her toes, placing a warm hand on his neck, her thumb trailing across his jaw. Bellamy’s eyes closed as she placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Bellamy,” Clarke whispered, letting her hand fall away as she made to leave again.

He let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. His eyes remained closed as he still felt the warmth left from her touch.

Bellamy wondered where a princess like that got such resolute and intense strength to keep going.

Moonshine was a shitty gesture compared to that.

“Clarke, wait,” he said before he thought further.

Bellamy caught her lightly by the wrist and pulled her back to him. He let his hand fall to hers, lacing their fingers together as he dropped the cup. He lifted his now free hand to her cheek, taking a step closer to her.

Clarke’s blue eyes were wide as she gently squeezed his hand before letting go. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes again.

Bellamy didn’t want to close his eyes again at risk of opening them to find the exposed look in hers gone. He stopped feeling uncomfortable about it and focused on the honor.

Any efforts to keep his eyes opened were lost when his lips met hers in a new gesture. Her arms tightened around him and he wrapped his around her waist, holding her close. Her body was warm against him as she returned the gesture. The kiss loosened the tightness in his chest, replacing it with an honest passion he couldn’t recall feeling before.

Their lips parted far enough for them to breathe before Bellamy kissed her again.

“Merry Christmas, Princess,” Bellamy whispered, opening his eyes long enough to see the moon-illuminated smile return to her face.

“You know what would be a better Christmas gift, Bellamy?” Clarke began teasingly.

“What’s that?” He smirked in response.

“If next time you don’t complain when you fall into that plant-”

“I said we’re not talking about that, Clar-”

Her name was silenced on his lips by another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Awe isn't that adorable? Anyway this was a fic I made back during Christmas. I had been setting up my family's Christmas tree and the night before marathoned season 1 with my cousin so my mind was stuck on the 100!  
> (I'm truealphabellamy.tumblr.com).


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